Silver-Tongued Steele
by xffan-2000
Summary: "Bonds" was brutal to the Laura/Remington relationship. How do they come back from that? Set post-Bonds and ignores the fifth season, except for one little bit at the end. (Sorry about the title. It made me giggle more than it should.)
1. Chapter 1

SILVER-TONGUED STEELE

By: xffan_2000

Summary: "Bonds" was brutal to the Laura/Remington relationship. How do they come back from that? Set post-Bonds and ignores the fifth season, except for one little bit at the end. (Sorry about the title. It made me giggle more than it should.)

X—X—X—X—X—X

Remington Steele, not-quite-as-illegal alien, grinned as he shooed the visitors out of his apartment. Estelle Becker indicated Immigration was placated, with the tuna boat wedding appearing legitimate enough. Norman Keyes growled his disapproval, but couldn't refute anything. Mildred floated out, prattling on about how happy she was and how it was about time they got hitched.

And now he was alone with Laura to do what married couples did on their wedding night. His grin widened. Everything worked out in the end.

He turned from closing the door to find Laura standing where he'd left her by the couch, her arms crossed over her chest. His smile faltered upon seeing her flat expression.

"Thinking about the Scotch plaid?" he chuckled.

"Take me home."

"Laura..." He approached, placed his fingertips on her arms. "It's our wedding night." He waggled his eyebrows at her.

"Don't." She pulled away, turned from him. "Just..." her voice cracked, "...don't." She started to sink to the couch, but he grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her back up.

"You'll stain the upholstery."

Her lip quivered before she spoke. "How careless of me." She pushed past him, jerked the front door open then slammed it shut behind her.

He took out his handkerchief and dusted off the mud she'd deposited on his jacket. "I rest my case," he muttered before following her.

She stood at the elevator, assaulting the call button.

"Come back inside."

She abused the button further.

"Take a shower. I'll make some dinner."

The elevator door slid open and she marched inside. Remington couldn't ignore the increase in his heartbeat. She turned, her hand going for the buttons.

"We can talk," he offered quickly.

Her dark eyes peeked out from under her tangled, muddy mess of hair. "I don't have anything to wear."

He let out his held breath. "My closet is at your disposal."

She sighed and stepped back into the hall. "I'm going home after dinner."

"Absolutely," he confirmed.

She shoved past him again, getting more dirt on his jacket, but at least she hadn't stormed off.

While she was locked in the bathroom, he stripped out of his tuxedo. He considered losing his briefs and waiting naked on the bed, but thought better of it. Given her mood, it was likely she'd rip off vital body parts. Instead, he replaced his silk suit with jeans and a button-up shirt and moved to the kitchen.

Laura emerged thirty minutes later, just as he brought the food to the table. She wore his clothes, but her feet were bare, her face was scrubbed clean and her hair was back in a ponytail. Desire shot straight through him, causing him to falter the plates.

She plopped herself in a chair and unfolded the napkin in her lap.

He cleared his throat. "Dinner."

"Thank you," she said.

They ate in silence. She kept her head down, shoveled in large pieces of chicken, chewed more than necessary.

He focused on her. It wasn't as he'd planned. Hell, he'd _planned_ on having a ten-minute wedding ceremony, signing some government paperwork, paying off Clarissa, and being done with it all - hopefully with Laura being none the wiser the next day. Instead, his reluctant bride sat across from him. He could feel the anger radiating off her as if it were a physical thing.

Laura gulped down a mouthful of food with a huge swig of wine, then spoke. "You need to take me to the court house."

He couldn't help himself. He grinned and said, "We're already married."

"The Rabbit is there," she continued, as though he hadn't spoken.

He frowned. "Why were you at the court house?"

She hadn't looked at him since she sat down, but now she stared directly into his eyes. "Because _you_ were at the court house."

"Ah," he said, remembering the marriage license he picked up for Clarissa and himself.

"Damn!" She dropped her fork and put her face in her palms. "I don't have my purse." She threw herself back in her chair and stared at the ceiling. "It must be in that ravine."

"What ravine?"

"Where I jumped."

His stomach clenched. "Jumped?"

"Or maybe it's in his car..." She continued, right past his concern.

" _Whose_ car?" He couldn't follow her story.

"Lyle Andrews."

"That thug from Unidac? What were you doing in his car?"

"He tried to kidnap me," she said matter-of-factly.

"He what?"

"Before he tried to kill me the first time."

Remington choked. "The _first_ time?"

"He tried to kill me twice today. Or maybe it was three times."

"Laura, I had no idea."

She scowled at him. "Of course you didn't. You were too busy marrying a hooker."

He placed his cutlery down and looked into her eyes. "Tell me, Laura, what angers you more: the fact that I wasn't paying attention to our case or the fact that I had an arrangement with Clarissa?"

It wasn't a fair shot, and he knew it. He also knew he was goading her into an argument. It had been brewing for hours, and he wanted to be done with it. The only question in his mind was whether she'd be more upset on a business level or a personal level.

Her jaw flexed. "I think the winner has to be you standing by so as not to get your suit dirty while I was being smothered."

He wasn't sure if that particular response fit under work or personal. "You like to handle things on your own. You are the independent sort. And I did knock him out with a two-by-four."

"It's good to know back-up is there when I _beg_ for it." She pushed back from the table and made for the living room.

"Where are you going?"

"This independent sort is calling a cab."

"Laura, wait."

He grabbed her elbow before she could reach for the phone. She jerked her arm out of his grasp and glared up at him, her brown eyes sparking with something akin to murderous intention. He swallowed and let his hand drop. Her gaze penetrated him for a long moment. She was studying him, seeking something he wasn't sure he could admit.

"What were you thinking?" she asked, her voice brittle.

"I needed INS off my tail," he said. "I thought the end would justify the means."

Her eyes dropped to the floor. "Of course you did," she said, the defeated tone in her voice stabbing his heart. She sank down to the couch, her face turned away from him, her hands clenching and unclenching in her lap.

It _sounded_ like a good idea to hire Clarissa to be his wife just long enough to mollify INS. In his mind, he and Laura would laugh at his marvelous scam and continue on as though nothing had changed. Hell, when he hatched the idea, he could see her _thanking_ him for keeping her out of such illegal activities.

But as with most of his schemes, when it came to her, it didn't work out as calculated. He had blind-sided her the entire day. On the professional front, he put the agency at risk by going head-to-head with the United States federal government, without dropping any hint to her that he was in legal trouble. He also hadn't been there to back her up on the Unidac case, and she nearly died _multiple times_ because of it. On the personal side, he had manhandled her, locked her in an anteroom, and then expected her to step in when the original bride got tossed in the slammer.

All because he _knew_ she wouldn't want to marry him.

He was positive.

He was sure.

She sniffled and swiped at her cheek with a fist.

He was...a complete fool.

What _had_ he been thinking?

"Laura, I am truly sorry," he said, sinking to his knees in front of her. "It was never my intention to hurt you."

She huffed a breath at his admission.

He raised a finger to her chin and gently coaxed her to face him. Her eyes were devoid of anger now, leaving only raw misery. Seeing her reach a breaking point was so rare that he had no defense against her tears. A lump formed in his throat.

"I just..." he began, but didn't know where to go.

"You're my partner," she said, "I need you. I had hoped you needed me, too."

"I do, Laura." He clasped both of her hands with his. "I need you so desperately it hurts."

Her fingers tightened around his. "Why is it so damned hard to admit that?"

"Fear," he said. "I'm so afraid of losing you that I sometimes push you away, when I should pull you closer."

She twisted her mouth into a rueful grimace. "As do I."

He reached up and wiped away a stray tear from her cheek. "I should have come to you about my immigration problem."

"We could have worked together."

"We are a good team."

She nodded. "The best."

They smiled at one another. As the moment settled she rubbed her thumbs over his knuckles.

"If..." Her eyes lowered to stare at their hands. "...if you had come to me about INS, would you have married me?"

The question hung in the air, ominous and heavy. He'd never pictured himself tied down to one place, one woman, one _life_. But that was before he crossed paths with Laura, before he slipped into the persona of Remington Steele. Now, he couldn't see any existence other than this one. He could barely remember his multiple previous lives, as this new one had completely consumed his soul. And she was the reason for it all.

"Yes," he said.

She raised her eyes back to his, looking a bit astounded at his admission. "You would?"

"If you'd have me."

"I'd have you," she said. "Assuming you could put up with me, too."

"Of course I could put up with you. I love you."

Laura blinked. "You...love me?"

He nodded. "You know I do."

"Yes," she replied as she untangled their fingers and lifted her hands to cup his face between her palms. "And I love you, too." She closed the distance between them and kissed him.


	2. Chapter 2

This kiss was unlike the one from the tuna boat that afternoon. He didn't crush her in a tight embrace to impress Estelle Becker and Mildred. She didn't squeeze her lips closed against him. He didn't check his watch. She didn't reek of filth and fish.

Tonight, Laura held his face gently in her hands as her tongue met his in a lazy duel. She smelled fresh from his soap and tasted of chicken parmesan and wine.

As he crouched before her, his hands quested upward from her knees. The very tips of his fingers grazed the zipper on the jeans, dipped a little lower, pressed between her legs.

She broke their kiss, and he nearly pulled his hands away, afraid he'd overstepped. But she moved only far enough to tilt her forehead against his. Her nod was almost imperceptible, but her smoldering look was unmistakable.

He moved again, reaching for the tie she used as a belt. Her eyes slid shut. As he plucked at the knot, her lips returned to his, her fingers threading into his hair. He popped the button open, lowered the zipper, spread the denim. Given the state of her clothing earlier, he was unsurprised – yet infinitely aroused – to find her bare beneath the jeans.

His squatted position caught his cock in a painful pinch as it hardened in his pants. He grunted and surged forward, pushing her back into the sofa cushions, to straighten his hips, allowing himself room to expand. The new position offered some space to maneuver a hand down into her jeans where he cupped her and teased her slippery lips with pressure from his fingers. She grabbed the back of his head, held him tight to her as she plunged her tongue back into his mouth with a moan.

Emboldened, he continued working her with one hand, while his other made its way through the buttons on her shirt. When it, too, was splayed open, he broke their kiss. She wore no bra, so he lowered his mouth to the tip of one pert nipple. As he suckled and pressed and tweaked, her hands moved down until she found his stiffened cock.

"Laura..." he hissed when she made contact through his pants. He backed away from her touch. "Not yet."

He grabbed the sides of her jeans and yanked, stripping her in one move. She sat before him, his blue shirt barely clinging to her body, her breasts rising and falling with her rapid breaths, her legs too close together. He took a knee in each hand and parted her legs, exposing her to him.

He'd never had her in such a state, so revealed, so obviously aroused. Her nipples stood dark and alert against her pale skin, he could see the moisture glistening at the apex of her thighs.

She flushed pink under his scrutiny. "Mr. Steele..."

"Beautiful," he said, reaching for her. "So very beautiful."

He probed, spread her wider and could see everything red, wet, flexing with anticipation, her clit sitting enticingly at the ready. He stroked the small bundle of nerves with his thumb. She gasped and shoved into his touch. Giving in to the temptation, he dove between her legs, zeroing in on her clit with his tongue.

"Oh, god," she groaned as she grabbed his hair in fistfuls just above his ears.

He began a random pattern of flicking with his tongue until she was writhing beneath him. Soon, he slid a finger inside and found the tender spot that made her flinch and whimper. Her eagerness coated him, allowed him to add another finger. Slowly, deliberately, thoroughly he fucked her with hands and mouth.

She came with a cry he very much wanted to hear her repeat. He maintained his ministrations as her inner muscles rippled around his fingers and her legs clamped against his head. When the tremors passed, he slowed and withdrew, kissing her thighs until she tugged him up by his hair. He met her lips with his, knowing his face was wet with her moisture.

"Tell me again why we waited so long for this?" she said with a breathy voice.

"I haven't the foggiest idea," he said.

"You're still dressed," she noted as she fiddled with the buttons on his shirt.

"But you're not." He took a nipple between his teeth, laved the hardened peak with his tongue.

Her hand stole downward again to touch him through his pants. "I want you," she whispered against the top of his head. She squeezed him and he closed his eyes.

"I have to get...I'll be right back." He extracted himself from her grip and felt instantly bereft of her warmth when he moved off the couch.

It took only a moment to dig through his nightstand for the box of condoms and hurry back to Laura; he didn't want to lose any of the momentum they'd built.

She'd shed her shirt while he'd been gone and was standing naked next to the couch waiting for him. Her hands worked at his belt and zipper while he unbuttoned his shirt. When he was as bare as she was, she pushed his shoulders and he sat. He rolled on a rubber and she straddled his lap, taking him in as he held himself still for her.

His cock, buried balls-deep in her scorching heat, felt close to bursting from the simple act of – at long last – sliding inside her. She seemed to sense his tension and waited for him to calm before moving. As he'd taken charge earlier, she reciprocated now, riding him in long, slow strokes. He looked down and watched his cock repeatedly disappear into her body. The reality of it muddled his mind to the point of knowing nothing but the hot, tight sensation of her.

"Laura, I...I'm..." He grabbed her hips, intending to pause her movements.

She instead quickened her pace and he was gone.

When he opened his eyes, she was smiling at him with her arms draped around his shoulders.

"I think we stained the upholstery," she said.

"For a very worthy cause." He toyed with her breasts as he softened within her. "You didn't..."

"Next time," she assured, then kissed him.

Too soon, she moved from his embrace, his cock sliding out of her, and took a seat next to him. He removed the condom and tucked it in a tissue he plucked from the box on the end table. She turned to him when he settled back against the cushions, draping a leg across his lap. He wrapped an arm around her.

"We should take a vacation," he said. "Take some time for just the two of us."

"A honeymoon period, as it were?" She said it with a grin.

He chuckled. "I suppose. Where do you want to go? Paris? New York?"

The phone rang.

"Someplace without phone service," she growled.

"Agreed." He turned to her, taking a breast in hand, and leaned in for a kiss as he let the answering machine take the call.

She reached for his flaccid cock and began fondling him. It was too soon to bring him back to life, but it felt divine to have her hands on him.

When the machine kicked in, Daniel Chalmer's voice filled the room. " _Harry_ ," There was a rattling cough, then the voice continued. " _Harry, the Earl of Claridge has passed and he left you an inheritance. I've arranged an airline ticket for you to come to Ireland._ " A pause. " _You can bring Linda, too, if you must._ " Another pause. " _Harry, I..._ " A longer gap. " _My boy, there's also something I need to tell you when you arrive._ " The call ended with a click.

Laura tilted her head. "That was awfully cryptic."

Remington shrugged, trying to ignore the tightness in his gut from Danie's tone. "You know Daniel. Always working some kind of scam." He shook off the feeling of foreboding and resumed his dalliance with Laura's body. "How does a trip to Ireland sound?"

"This time of year? Cold and wet."

He slipped a finger down into her folds, penetrated just a little. "As opposed to hot and wet?"

She responded by caressing his balls and nipping at his earlobe.

"Laura?" He pulled back to look into her eyes. "How real is this marriage?"

Her expression grew serious. "As real as we make it."

He nodded. His existence as Remington Steele proved Laura was a pro at making reality out of nothing. He was confident that together they could forge something truly monumental.

As he pressed her back on the sofa and covered her body with is, he decided that in the morning he'd go buy rings. No matter what news Daniel had to tell him, it couldn't compare to showing up with his new wife on his arm.

END


End file.
